


One Night in Australia

by luvscharlie



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bars and Pubs, Community: hp_rarities, F/M, Fanfiction, Het, Post-Canon, Public Sex, Travels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvscharlie/pseuds/luvscharlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione goes back to Australia to reclaim her parents and gets more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Australia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellie_kat89](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ellie_kat89).



> Warnings: Sex, Booze, public sex and general angst  
> A/N: Originally written for ellie_kat89's request at the 2009 hp_rarities fest on Live Journal.

It hadn't taken long to find them. Her parents, even with altered memories, were still as predictable as the day was long. Perhaps that was where she got it; her need for order in an otherwise chaotic world had come from them. Perfectly predictable Hermione. She had been in Australia less than forty-eight hours before she had located her parents and put them on the next plane to England, where Minister Shacklebolt had arranged for a group of witches and wizards to meet them and try to reverse the Obliviation Spell.

Hermione had decided to stay in Australia to clean up the loose ends of her parents' quick departure. At least, she used that as her excuse to stay behind. The fact was she needed a break. The last year and a half had taken its toll on her. It had been six months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she felt as though she had aged many years in that short span of time. Perhaps she had; perhaps they all had. If years were measured by growth, she felt certain of it.

Tonight, she simply needed to escape. She made her way down the high street and turned left onto a street that wasn't well lit. Someone opened a door and came staggering out. The noise from inside drew her attention and she stepped into the tucked away little pub. She found a booth in a dimly lit corner, far away from the crowd. The waitress brought a pitcher of ale moments later.

"There must be some mistake," Hermione said. "I didn't order that."

The waitress popped her chewing gum and looked annoyed. "Well, someone ordered it. And the ticket says to bring it to this table, so here it is. The waitress's tone brooked no argument as she sat down the pitcher so hard that ale sloshed over the top. Two glasses followed the pitcher to rest upon the table.

The waitress left the table and Hermione poured herself a glass. Waste not, want not, her mother would say—though perhaps that didn't apply to ale. Her mother probably wouldn't use that particular saying in reference to imbibing, but Hermione was wont to bend the rules these days. War changed people, she guessed.

A shadow fell over her table and a rich voice drew her attention. "Seeing as how it was bought with my Sickles, you think you might pour another glass?"

Hermione recognised the voice at once, but immediately thought she must be mistaken. After all, he was a wanted man. She looked up as Draco Malfoy took the seat across from her. "One flick of my wand, and all the Aurors will know where to find you," she said, her tone hushed.

"But you won't summon them, will you?" Draco asked, a smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't? There's probably a reward." She knew good and well that the Ministry wasn't offering a reward for a Death Eater who had been underage at the time he had accepted the Dark Mark. All they were really interested in from him was discovering the whereabouts of his father who had beaten a hasty escape after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Draco chuckled. "Probably is. Wonder what the cash out is on a former Death Eater anyway. Of course, if you call them, then you're going to have to go back with me to give testimony and all that. Funny enough, you don't look like you're much in the mood for company, Granger."

"And yet, you come and join me." Hermione blew out a slow breath. He was reading her well, and she found it somewhat annoying. She put aside her first instinct to summon the Aurors and nodded toward the pitcher between them. She needed this time alone, and turning him in wasn't worth abandoning this chance for solitude. "Help yourself."

Draco took the pitcher in hand and poured his glass to the brim. Hermione drained her own glass and set it back down on the table. He filled hers as well and pushed it back at her.

"So Malfoy, what are you doing in Australia?"

"I thought we had established that I was hiding," Draco said, taking a swallow.

"You might want to work on your skills at covertness. You see, hiding works better if you don't seek out the one person in the pub who knows who you are and sit down to have drinks with her."

He chuckled in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Perhaps it was the ale that was lowering her inhibitions, even making him look a bit handsome. Yes, it must be the ale. This was Malfoy after all, she told herself. Malfoy, whom she hated. Malfoy, who annoyed her to no end. Malfoy, whose eyes were that perfect shade of grey—strike that—obnoxious shade of grey—yes, that's what they were. Obnoxious… well, until he tilted his head in just that way as he took a drink and…

"Do I have something on my face?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. "Wh—what?" She cleared her throat and tried again. "What did you say?"

Draco leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I asked you if I had something on my face?"

"No," she stammered. "No, of course not. Why would you ask that?"

Draco took a moment to flag down the waitress and order another pitcher, since the one they were drinking from had gone dry. "From the way you're staring at me, it seemed the most logical possibility. Otherwise, I might be forced to believe those looks you're giving me are ones of admiration."

"That's ridiculous, Dra—Malfoy. I don't like you, remember?"

"I do remember. The question is, do you?"

That sexy smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth—strike that too, she thought, trying to gather her wits about her. Clearly this ale was wreaking havoc on her senses. There was nothing about Draco Malfoy that was sexy—well, almost nothing. Honestly, she was no longer sure what she thought. Rather than answering him (as she no longer remembered the question), she chose to remain silent.

"So, where are your usual leech-like attachments?" he asked.

"I assume you're referring to Ron and Harry. You must know they're not here or else you would never have approached me."

Draco gave a chuckle. "Well, you're still able to process logical thought, so you're not that pissed yet. Shall I order another pitcher?"

"Oh no, really, I shouldn't," she protested.

"Miss Responsibility, aren't you? Do you ever do anything naughty?"

She could tell he was goading her, but Hermione felt herself bristle at his comment, nevertheless, and she glared pointedly at him. "Order another pitcher."

"Well, well, well. Aren't you just full of surprises, Granger?"

As they drank and talked, idle conversation of inconsequential things, she began to notice that her words were slurring, and that her companion was growing more and more attractive by the pub's dim light. _Surely, it must be the lighting._

The waitress came round again to ask if they wanted another pitcher of ale, but Draco shook his head to indicate that they did not. "Perhaps I should walk you back to your hotel. I doubt you're very steady on your feet."

"I'm fine," she slurred, attempting to stand as the room whirled around her.

Draco caught her just in time, his hand curling around her waist in a familiar way that seemed all too natural. He smelled wonderful… of ale and the smoke-filled pub and something undeniably male. Despite her better judgment, she felt herself relaxing into him.

One minute they were walking out of the pub, and the next (Merlin only knew what had come over her), she was tugging him by the hand into an alley beside the pub and kissing him deeply…

And it was wonderful.

For the first time in far too long, she felt free. She knew what she was doing was wrong, and that she would undoubtedly regret it later, but right then, in that moment, it was exactly what she needed. The rough bricks of the building scratched her back where her shirt had ridden up. His tongue teased apart her lips as his hand slid up and under her shirt.

Hermione was rather impressed with the deftness of his fingers as he pushed her bra up, freeing her breasts to his touch. His fingers played her like a finely tuned instrument, tweaking her nipples. She arched her back into his touch, whispering the word "more" into his ear as her fingers dug into his shoulders with an urgent need.

"The pub will be closing soon. Someone might see us here," Draco gasped against her skin.

She threw caution to the wind, wrapping her legs around his waist. "I don't care," she responded, her lips against the shell of his ear.

She heard him gasp, drawing in a shaky breath of her own, as he pushed aside her knickers and slid his finger inside her. "Fuck," he whispered, removing his hand and fumbling with his belt.

"Hurry."

"I'm trying. Bloody fucking belt," he replied, pulling at it viciously until it gave and came free. He was inside her a moment later, pushing into her at a frenzied pace, as the bricks scraped against her back with each forceful thrust.

She slid her hand into her knickers as he set their rhythm, finding her clit and rubbing it fast and furious. Her heart seemed to beat in time with the movements of their bodies. Her moans grew louder with her impending orgasm, and Draco's mouth swallowed down her cries—both their cries—as he came hard inside her. She tumbled over the edge of ecstasy behind him, lips and bodies still joined as one.

~*~

She would regret it in the morning; she knew she would. But for the moment, this—he—was exactly what she needed, and she didn't think twice about agreeing when he asked if he could stay with her that night.

Irresponsible as it was, and completely opposite her normal behaviour, she thought she and Mr. Malfoy might have another go… perhaps, more than one.


End file.
